


the one where penny finds out

by angryjane



Series: The Ones Where People Find Out [5]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Crying, Drinking, Drunkenness, Engagement, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Short & Sweet, tears of joy tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-20 15:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18527524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryjane/pseuds/angryjane
Summary: Simon and Baz day-drink.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> hiya!! this one's gonna be two parts.

**Simon**

It’s hard to believe this.

I never really thought much, before, about what’d happen after Waftord. I’d always assumed I’d go off and defeat the Humdrum (or try to), marry Aggie and have gorgeous blond kids who’d be Mages like us.

Not… this.

I guess I never thought before about what I _wanted,_ just what I got.

This is better.

 

Baz is still asleep when I wake up. That’s usually how it goes: I’m up with the sun, and he’s cocooned in the covers while I make tea and try my hand at breakfast. (I can’t cook for shit. I try my best though.) Baz sleeps with his mouth open.

Mouth breather.

He’s so soft when he sleeps. Usually, all I see is what he tries to show me, but this is different. His guard is down, and his edges seem to smooth and soften, like caramel. He’s still pale as fuck, and he always seems too thin, but he’s so much _softer_ now. Or has he always been soft, but wouldn’t show me?

I like this so much better than fighting.

I stretch, my back cracking in the most satisfying way, wings fanning out. I usually end up sleeping with them wrapped around Baz and I. He used to complain, but I know he secretly loves it.

Today’s attempt at breakfast is, as usual, abysmal. The eggs are burnt, the toast soggy, and I don’t even know what happened to the bacon. It shouldn’t be grey, should it?

“What’d you burn this time, Snow?” Baz shuffles into the kitchen sleepily, a pair of (my) sweatpants riding low on his hips and sporting a laughable case of bedhead. He’s got a purple hickey from last night peeking out of his t0shirt collar and I can’t help but feel satisfied as I turn back to my failure of a meal.

“The eggs. And maybe the bacon.” I sigh, tossing the food into the trash. Then I get an idea—“Hey, you don’t have class today, right?”

“No, why?” He looks suspicious as he drops onto a barstool, and rightfully so.

I grin, turning to the cabinet behind me and dragging out a mostly-full bottle of whiskey.

Baz looks at the bottle, then back at me, and smirks.

 

 

We are absolutely sozzled.

Baz’s hair has fallen out of its bun and lies in lazy waves on his forehead; he hasn’t bothered to put it back. (I like it better this way.) His trackie bottoms are slipping further and further down his hips, the sharp V of his hipbones poking out. He’s the slightest bit pink in the face, quite a feat for a vampire really—he must be really drunk. We didn’t drink _that_ much did we? Only one…two… six? Shots each?

He’s splayed across my lap comfortably, his face buried in my t-shirt as he rambles about something I don’t understand, his hands waving around in my face.

It’s something about economics—I think—and that kind of thing has never been my strong suit. School in general, actually, has never been his strong suit. It’s always been Baz’s, though. He’s so bloody _smart_ , it used to drive me insane; now I just admire him all the more for it.

He’s really getting into it now, face flushed, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He’s moving his hands wildly to emphasize his points, as if I need any convincing; as if I wouldn’t just blindly follow him to the moon and back. And then it hits me—I want to follow him there, I want to follow him anywhere, and I want to follow him for the rest of my life.

“Baz,” I whisper, catching his hands. He pauses mid-sentence, peering up at me curiously. Like a cat. Or something.

“Hmm?” He hums, tilting his head, and I swoop down to press my forehead to his. It’s an uncomfortable angle, me folded in two and trapping him between my face and legs, but he must know I mean business because he doesn’t fuss at it. “Simon, what’s wrong?” (He always calls me Simon when he’s drunk, cause he forgets to be a git.)

“Marry me.” The words are out of my mouth before I want them to be, but I can’t take it back. Besides, I mean it. Probably more than I’ve meant anything in my whole life. I love him, probably always have, and nothing’s gonna change that. I want him here forever, ranting into my stomach or curled up by my side watching shitty telly, or telling me I’m shit at cooking, or combing his fingers through my hair after one a nightmare. It’s like he’s always been there, for me, even when we were fighting. He’s the constant in my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Everything is just… _Baz_.

He’s staring, mouth slightly agape (again, he calls _me_ the mouth breather?), and then he leans up and kisses me. A soft one, not his usual hungry ones. Sweet, like always, but softer, more refined. And then he’s pulling back, and he’s whispering against my lips—“Yes.” And I think I’m gonna cry.

Scratch that, I know I’m gonna cry; I’m _already_ crying, the tears burning in my eyes and I’m so _alive_ and so _happy_ and—

“I love you,” I choke out, and he hums again, nosing into my neck now, and I sigh.

I _knew_ day-drinking was a good idea.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe here u go

**Penny**

Note to self: never leave the boys home alone while there’s alcohol in the house.

They’re huddled on the couch, just looking at each other like the love-drunk fools they really are, heart eyes and all, fingers and legs entwined in a complicated mess of boy on my sofa.

There’s piano music filtering softly from Baz’s speaker in the corner, and his cheeks are a pale flush, mouth slightly open and smiling softly. Simon’s no better, eyes drooping half-mast and lips pressed tightly around a giggle, chin jutting out towards Baz. There’s an empty bottle of whiskey abandoned on the coffee table and I sigh, slamming the door behind me.

That gets their attention, and Simon stumbles forward a little in his seat, face-planting into Baz’s chest. Baz doesn’t seem to much mind, bringing a hand up to card through the idiot’s hair.

“Hey Penny.” Simon mumbles from somewhere in Baz’s t-shirt, “Guess what!”

“Oh Merlin, do I even want to know?” I ask, setting my bag down by the door and moving to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.

“Snow proposed.” Baz calls. I drop the teapot.

“Excuse me? You what?” I poke my head around the door, glaring. That _is_ something Simon would do, drunk or not, because decision-making hasn’t always been his strong suit.

I love Basil with my whole heart, but they’ve been dating for what? A few months? Not even a year.

Though, to be fair… they’ve lived together through thick and thin. I don’t think anyone knows Baz better than Simon, and for his part, Baz knows Si even better than _I_ do.

They could survive living together, that much is clear.

They make a good team, when they aren’t bickering over stupid shit or making out on my furniture.

At first, I had honestly doubted Basil’s intentions, but when I really looked, it’s so _obvious_ , his devotion to that nuisance. His eyes are always on him, following him across the room and into the hall, his hands twitch when Simon moves, like he wants to grab him, he looks at him like he’s the moon or the one who put her in the sky.

“Yeah,” Simon giggles, pulling his head from Baz’s shirt.

Simon is much happier with Baz than he ever was with Agatha. I always expected they’d get married and have lovely blond babies, full or magic and perfection, but I think this is much better. Simon would never have been happy like that. He needs Baz in his life, as he has made well clear, without meaning to.

Simon’s like that—stubborn when it comes down to it. Stuck in his ways, but kind and selfless nonetheless. (Basil had said to me, one night after he and I were sitting up after one of Si’s nightmares, that Simon was the Chosen One because he was the only one stupid enough to do anything. I think I agree.)

I go back into the living room now, pushing Simon’s legs over to sit on the couch beside them.

“Well, let’s see the ring then.”

Simon stills.

“… Is there one?”

“No- Well, yeah, but not—“

“Huh?” Baz asks, head tilting back sloppily in his drunkenness. He’s more open like this, around Simon and full of whiskey.

“When we went to visit your parents last month-“ Simon pauses, shuffling in Baz’s la. I’m not entirely sure when he got there. “-Daphne gave me her mother’s ring to give to you.”

“She did?” I ask, and I’m genuinely surprised. Daphne is a kind, open, lovely woman, and she’d taken to Simon right away (everyone does). I didn’t know she liked him _that_ much though.

“Yeah.” Simon giggles, “Said she knew I’d make you happy.”

That’s actually… really sweet.

“I love you.” Baz states, like it’s a fact, (it is), as if it’s just some statistic he can ramble off in his econ class. He does that a lot, surprisingly, Simon loves it. I can tell because his fingers do that twitchy, skittering dance in his lap like they always do when he’s excited.

“Love you too.” Simon says, and I’m thoroughly sure they’ll be alright.

Looks like I have a wedding to plan.

I better call Agatha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop me a comment if u'd like!! i read each and every one of them!!
> 
> dear, lie still along my old web,   
> curséd by a dust-filled hymn

**Author's Note:**

> how's that?? drop me a comment and lemme know!!!
> 
> xoxoxoxo
> 
> have a nice day and rob your local bank!!


End file.
